Black and Purple
by YeahScience
Summary: They say the enemy of your enemy is your friend. And who did Jesse have left besides… Marie Schrader? Can the two ex-criminals prove that the best way to bring people together is hate? (Immediately after Felina. JessexMarie.)
1. Enemy of My Enemy

_Where do I go? What do I do? _Jesse's heart is racing faster than his car, which is speeding down the abandoned road. As high as he is on life, right now, he feels even more hopeless than when his mother kicked him out of his house. Jesse has nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no way to start his life over again. He's going to live the rest of his days on the run: the escaped convict, Jesse Bruce Pinkman, former partner of the great Heisenberg.

Unless...

Jesse slams on the brakes, thrust forward from the inertia.

_Where do you go if you want to escape someone?_

A sly grin spread across his face.

_The last place they'd ever look for you._

Jesse reoriented himself, jerked the car into gear, and sped out into the black night.

* * *

Marie jumped at the shriek of the kettle boiling away on the stove. Disturbed by the inhuman, yet tortured sound it made, she immediately shut off the flame and the kettle's raw voice trickled away into nothingness. Marie reached blindly into a cabinet to pull out a mug, her vision cloudy in the dimly-lit, midnight kitchen. When she pulled out the mug, Marie screamed and dropped it, shattering into several large shards on the tile floor. The bold letters imprinted on it burned in her vision, even when she closed her eyes.

DEA DEA DEA DEA

DEAD

Rigid from shock, Marie leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and sunk her face into her soft, purple robe. And she sobbed, vulnerable and childlike. She hugged her legs close, desperate for some kind of warmth around her, to fend off the loneliness that had been smothering her for months. Her cries echoed through the empty house, with no ears to hear them.

_I haven't looked at that mug since…_ Marie couldn't even finished her thought, as recalling the memory of that day brought to her body new, vigorous sobs.

She indulged herself, losing track of time. _How long have I been crying down here? _she asked herself, standing up slowly and stiffly due to her sleeping muscles. Marie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and opened the cabinet to find a new mug. She poured the water in, steeped her tea bag, and added exactly 4 Splenda packets, which she had meticulously arranged on the countertop. She was careful not to step on any shattered ceramic as she walked into the living room.

Her toes wriggled around in the plush comfort of the purple shag rug as she sat, bringing the tea to her lips. Marie immediately recoiled at its taste. _Tepid, _she frowned, setting the mug down on a coaster. _Guess I had been crying for a while._

_12:01, _the clock reads. _I've got to get up in seven hours, _Marie thought resignedly. She hadn't been getting much sleep recently. Nor for the past six and a half months.

_Guess I better go to sleep, _she resolved. _Or try, at least. _Marie stood slowly, shuffling through her cold, desolate, and purple house. She padded softly into her bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack, and eased into bed. Her violet sheets looked black in the midnight shadows.

Marie tenderly slid under her comforter, wrapping herself up in its embrace. Her tense muscles relaxed at the warm touch, making her eyelids heavier. Under the sultry spell of sleep, Marie unknowingly turned over in the bed, facing the side where Hank used to sleep.

She was washed with what felt like a rush of cool air, raising goosebumbs all over her body. She drew the covers in closer to ward off the feeling, but it's too late; it had already permeated her whole being.

The other side of the bed was completely untouched: not a single wrinkle in the sheets or pillow. In fact, the entire side of the room hadn't been disturbed at all. There was a faint coating of dust over everything that was Hank's: his dresser, his nightstand, his lamp. Marie couldn't even bring herself to clean the side of the room.

_God, what I wouldn't give for just another second of Hank's presence, _Marie thought, consumed by grief. _Even another one of his lectures about his precious 'minerals.' _Tears welled up in Marie's eyes, leaving salty trails down her cheek and dotting her pillow. _But he's gone now, and there's nothing to do but lament over what could've been done._

_12:27, _the clock reads. _Damn, I've really got to go to sleep already. _Marie settled once more in her bed, fluffing her pillows and pulling up the covers. Suddenly, a twig snapped right outside the bedroom window, and Marie shot up in her bed. Her whole body was tense, her brain locked in a heightened, fight-or-flight state. She froze, not even daring to breathe. There was someone outside.

With extreme caution, Marie inched out of bed, moving deliberately slow in order to stay quiet. She dropped down to her knees, reached under the bed, and pulled out the knife she had been keeping there since Hank's murder. There was dust on it as well, but Marie didn't even notice as she held it at the ready.

Horrified, Marie recalled the conversation she had with Skyler. _He's back. Walt's back. In Albuquerque. _

_Heisenberg._

_Now he's coming to kill me, just like he killed Hank!_

By this point, Marie could hardly contain herself. She was shaking, barely able to keep a grip on the massive knife. Stepping stiff with fear, yet delicately, Marie snuck out of the bedroom and into the hallway, hugging the walls and staring intently at the floor for any shadows moving across it. Her vision was poor, as everything was so dark she could only make out fuzzy, dark shapes.

_BANG! _Marie shrieked, then recovered herself after she stumbled into a small table in the hallway. Frightened at having given up her location, Marie dodges into the nearby bathroom and wedged herself behind the door. With mounting terror, Marie turned around in the pitch darkness to check behind the shower curtain, taking cues from all the slasher movies she had watched with her husband.

_Nobody. _Breathing a much needed, albeit silent, sigh of relief, Marie allowed herself a few seconds to calm down, before readying her knife and emerging from the bathroom. She continued down the hallway, setting down her feet like she was walking in a mine field. Her heartbeat was in her throat, pounding so hard she was sure whatever intruder there was could hear it. She drops to all fours in order to crawl unseen by the door when

_BANG BANG BANG! _Three deafening, paralyzing knocks on the door and Marie collapsed on the ground, shrieking. She felt like she was about to lose consciousness, _this has got to be a dream, please, don't let me die,_ when whoever is at the door rings the doorbell.

Marie stopped shrieking and paused, confused. _The hell kind of axe murderer or drug lord rings the doorbell? _Marie still didn't feel safe, but at this point she was more perplexed than terrified, and slowly opened the door, standing partially behind it, holding her knife at the ready.

What she saw rendered her unconscious.

"Mrs. Schrader?" Jesse Pinkman timidly asked the woman lying unconscious on the foyer floor.


	2. Midnight

_God, what the hell happened? _Marie sat up slowly, her entire brain fuzzy and her head throbbing. _Was I sleepwalking? _It takes a while for Marie's eyes to adjust in the pitch-black house, but when they do, she almost faints again at who's staring at her awkwardly.

"Um…" Jesse says tentatively. "Mrs. Schrader?" He stretched out his hand, offering to help Marie up. All she could do was sit there on the floor, absolutely dumbfounded. Here was Jesse Pinkman, the druggie who helped Hank hunt down and arrest Heisenberg months ago. And he was _standing in her doorway!_

Marie propped herself up on her elbows, rubbing her head. The knife she had been holding was between the open door and the wall, safely out of sight. _It's a miracle I didn't fall on that. _"Jesse?" she began. "What are you doing here?" Seemed like a perfectly reasonable question, considering he had no reason to be here. He had gone missing since… _All the officers said he was presumed dead. So why the hell is he here?_

"Listen, Mrs. Schrader, I can explain," he began, but anger flashed in Marie and she cut him off.

"You damn well better!" she shouted. Jesse jumped and whipped around to close the front door, which had been open this entire time. He swore that he could hear police sirens; he needed to bunker down, and fast. Marie's eyes darted to the knife, which was still sitting in the very corner of the foyer, just out of her reach. _If I just moved fast enough..._

"Mr. White's dead," Jesse spoke in a low, urgent tone. "He came to kill me and the people that had been keeping me hostage for the past six months and was shot by his own trap. I'm the only one who made it out alive."

Marie's heart stopped. _Heisenberg is dead. The man who was single-handedly responsible for the destruction of his and my families. And he's gone. _Her face didn't show it, but inside, Marie felt a sort of warm elation, the sort of satisfaction one gets for the perfect exaction of revenge. She relished in it for a few seconds, let her body bask in the glow of Walt's death.

Her joy quickly died out, though, as she remembered Skyler. _I can't imagine the phone call she's going to get. She's got Holly, who is _Heisenberg's daughter. _And Flynn… he's taking this whole thing harder than his mother. He hardly talks anymore, doesn't see his friends._

"Wait a second," Marie started. "How do I know you're telling the truth?" _This whole thing could be a lie! Maybe this freak killed Hank!_

"I can tell you everything, Mrs. Schrader," Jesse jumped in, seemingly wholly apologetic and convincing, but Marie cut him off.

"MS. SCHRADER!" she shrieked so loud that Jesse once again had to whip around and make sure the door was bolted shut. There were no sirens sounding or lights flashing in the cul-de-sac, so Jesse assumed everything was safe.

"Sorry, sorry, Ms. Schrader," Jesse corrected himself. "Sorry. But I think you might wanna sit down while I tell you-"

"No!" Anything you have to say to me, you can say right here. By the door. So I can kick you out at the right time." Marie was putting up her best defenses, and couldn't help but feel a little smug. Being married to a DEA officer had done good things for her self-defense strategies.

Jesse sighed, staring down at his raggedy clothes. He looked up after a few silent, remorseful moments and to Marie's surprise, his eyes were brimmed with tears. "You know I was working with your husband to try and bring Mr. White down. He had poisoned my girlfriend's son, unbeknownst to me, just to get me to side with him." Jesse's breath caught in his throat and Marie felt the slightest hint of compassion for him.

"Hank and I were able to coax Mr. White out into the desert by threatening his stash of money. We tracked him down and Hank had arrested him when these bastards showed up. Mr. White tried to call them off, the son-of-a-bitch, but they start shooting up the place. I hide under a car, trying to find a weapon, but there was nothing. Eventually, after what seemed like ages, the shooting stopped. Agent Gomez was killed, and Hank was shot too. Then the head guy, Jack, holds a gun to Hank's head. Mr. White tries to stop him from shooting, but he does anyway. Mr. White then finds me under the car and orders Jack and his psycho Nazi gang to kill me. But no, they decide to keep me alive and force me to cook Mr. White's meth recipe. They beat me, tortured me… I tried to escape, and they caught me, so…"

Jesse trailed off, small sobs escaping his mouth. He tried to stifle his cries, but they came full force. Jesse sobbed, covering his filthy, dirt and blood-smeared face with his equally grubby hands. Marie, at first taken aback by the pitiful sight in front of her, soon felt sympathy rising in her throat. Soon enough, she was crying too. _I don't even know why I'm crying. Is it because he's talking about Hank? Because Heisenberg is dead? Or do I really feel sorry for this sad creature in front of me?_

Moving forward gently like one would approach a deer, Marie slowly wrapped her arms around Jesse Pinkman. She felt his muscles tense from shock, then relax as he rested his head on her shoulder, sobbing and squeezing her arms. Marie cried too, and placed her hand over Jesse's head, pulling him closer to her.

"They killed Andrea," Jesse whispered through Marie's hair, his voice groggy from the crying. _That must be his girlfriend, _Marie thought, her heart seizing at the memory of losing her beloved Hank. _This poor kid. He's been through hell and back. He deserves a safe place right now. And, after all, he did help Hank. Without this kid, Heisenberg would still be out there, poisoning children and 'cooking' methamphetamine. _

"And they killed Hank," Marie said, biting her lips and recoiling at the warm feel of tears streaming down her cheeks. "But you know what? We're still here."

Jesse pulled back from Marie's embrace and stared into her eyes, dark and warm and welcoming. His own eyes blazed a rich blue in the black midnight.


	3. House Guest

"I supposed you want somewhere to sleep," Marie suggested, swinging her arms by her side. _This is quite possibly the most __awkward human encounter to ever take place on this Earth, _she thought. "Well, um, there's a guest room just down that hallway. I don't think any of Hank's clothes will fit you."

Marie's hospitality made Jesse feel unbelievably guilty and threatened to bring a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. _This may very well be the nicest thing anybody's down for me in six months, __probably even a year, _Jesse thought, feeling warmer already.

"Thanks so much, Ms. Schrader." That was all Jesse's exhausted mind could think of. It may sound simple, but his words carried with them such a strong sense of gratitude that Marie felt sainted.

"It's the least I could do, Jesse," Marie said with just as much importance riding on her words as Jesse's. "Heisenberg is dead. We're safe." Marie couldn't shake the feeling that saying that was premature. _If he really is dead, surely Skyler or the police would've called by now…_

Jesse looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up. He could barely manage to say, "Can I go to bed?" Marie nodded slowly and gently guided him down the hallway to the guest bedroom. Jesse shuffled over to the bed and collapsed right on top of the purple comforter with his shoes still on. Within seconds, his torso seemed to be heaving with grateful sobs.

"Jesse…?" Marie whispered tentatively. _The kid is crying with joy because he has a bed. _Marie felt so incredibly sorry for the deprived, emaciated boy in front of her, weeping over the simple commodity of a warm bed. Not wanting to intrude on Jesse's tearful reunion with normal life, she left the room and softly closed the door behind her.

In the hallway, Marie contemplated putting a table or something in front of the door to keep him in his room, but that seemed cruel and unnecessarily derogatory. After all, he'd spent the past what, six months in a cage?

_I'm not getting any sleep tonight. My meth king brother-in-law is dead and I've got his ex-partner sleeping in my guest bedroom. _Marie rubbed her temples, where a throbbing headache was beginning. _Might as well stay up, wait for the phone call that's sure to come._

Feeling drained but far from sleep, Marie shuffled into the living room and sat on the couch. The whole setting had a deeply surreal and funereal shadow cast across it. Everything was disconnected. An owl hooted outside and Marie scarcely noticed the noise. Every second that went by without a call made Marie even more anxious, on-edge. He was probably dead, but the benefit of the doubt said Heisenberg was still out there. _Would he be looking for Jesse? Sounds to me like he was trying to save him. But if Heisenberg _was _going to kill someone, it would probably still be Jesse. __Or Skyler… Or Flynn… Or...__  
_

The room was growing hotter, stuffy, threatening to smother Marie. Hyperventilating, she rocketed off of the couch and stumbled over to the phone, furiously dialing Skyler's number. But, just as she was about to hit 'Dial', the phone rang, making Marie jump. She answered immediately, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"H-hello?" she stuttered, terrified out of her wits. The person on the other end could be Skyler, the police, or even _him. _

Relief washed over Marie as Skyler's voice came through the speaker. "Marie? Marie! Listen to me. Walt's dead. The police called, they think he was on some crazy suicide mission to try and kill these rival drug lords or something, I'm on my way over to the morgue right now, I made Flynn stay home with Holly, he's dead, Marie, he's really dead, he has to be-"

"Skyler, calm down, everything's going to be alright." _Am I detecting grief or elation in my sister's voice? _"Do you need me to go over and stay with the kids?" _Sorry, Sky, now's not a good time, I have your meth kingpin husband's ex-partner crashed in my house._

"No, Marie, it's okay, our neighbor's should be there any second." A tense pause. "I can't believe he's dead and I have to identify his body." Another pause, and there was a confusing sound on the other end of the line that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

"Skyler?" Marie asked. _Is she… crying? I mean, he was your husband, but still. I bet Flynn isn't crying. But then again, maybe he is. _"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not," Skyler mumbled through her tears. "I'm really not. I'm overwhelmed. Don't know what to think. Is my family safe? Should I be sad or relieved that my husband is dead? And if I am sad, does that make me a terrible person?"

"Skyler, absolutely not," Marie said forcefully. She was always good at pulling her sister together. "Walt-" Marie flinched at saying his name. Since she heard about the meth, Marie strictly referred to him as 'Heisenberg' and refused to acknowledge her relation to him. "He's the only terrible person here. It's only natural that you'd feel sad that you're husband is dead, of course." Marie's blood turned to ice as she remembered Hank, then to fire as she remember the man who let him die. "But think of all the good that'll come of this. Your two beautiful children will be safe."

"But will we?" Skyler sniffled back.

Marie couldn't come up with an answer to that. She wasn't sure.

Skyler broke the silence. "I'm here, I've got to go." Skyler stopped talking, but didn't hang up. After a few seconds, Sky drew a shaky breath and thanked her sibling.

"Hey, what are sisters for? Stay strong, Skyler." With that, the two women hung up. Marie cupped the phone in her hands for a few minutes, letting her brain process the life-changing conversation she had just had at this ungodly hour.

Marie's eyelids grew heavier and heavier and her muscles loosened, allowing her to slide into the fetal position on the couch. Eventually, she fell asleep, but kept one eye open the whole night.


	4. Clothed In Mystery

The sun threatened to burn right through Jesse's eyelids, forcing him to wake up after a night of restless sleep. Groggily, he sat up in the bed and, for a moment, completely forgot where he was. _Who's bedroom is this?_ Jesse thought, which was not an uncommon question he asked after a night of promiscuous drug use. But this time it was different. Jesse had slept in this bed before; he remembered the soft comforter, the fluffy pillows. Hell, he even remembered the purple. It was everywhere.

Cautiously, Jesse padded out of the bedroom, walking slowly down the hallway. He passed Marie's room , but the door was open and the bed made. She must be awake. Jesse continued down the hall and turned toward the family room. He was parched; Jesse hadn't had anything to drink in at least, and the chaos of his escape had left him dehydrated. However, on his way to the kitchen, a mumbled call of "Good morning" stopped his heart.

Marie had spent the night on the couch. She too was tired, not sleeping more than four hours before her busied mind woke her from her repose. Her matted hair fell limply across her face, her muscles ached from the awkward position, and goose bumps dotted her skin.

In all fairness, Jesse didn't look any better. There was dirt and blood caked sporadically across his face and his hair had knots that no comb could ever hope to fix. Scars cut deep across his cheeks, and his facial hair was unkempt and grimy. He looked like he'd just been rescued from a desert island. In a way, he had.

The two exchanged awkward glances for a few seconds, tense silence hanging in the air between them. Eventually Marie suggested, "I bet you're starving."

It was far from an understatement. Jesse had been starved for six months, and Marie could tell by the way his ribs rippled under his paper-thin shirt. "Yes, ma'am."

Marie chuckled slightly, partly to alleviate the tension and partly because hearing Jesse call her ma'am struck her as almost cute. "I'll go ahead and make us breakfast. Or lunch," she added, glancing at the clock. It was almost noon. She heard Jesse sniffle and when she turned back to him, saw he was on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey, Jesse. It's okay. Don't cry," she cooed, rising slowly and approaching him warily like one would approach and injured dog. He may be pitiful, but he was still an ex-criminal. _So am I_, Marie reminded herself, criticizing herself for her judgmental attitude.

She wrapped her arms around him, her hands stroking his protruding vertebrae. He melted in her arms, giving into her embrace and reducing himself to shaky sobs, right in the Schraders' living room.

Minutes dragged by, and finally Jesse's sobbing subsided. "I'm sorry, Marie," he whispered. "It's just-" He trailed off, another cry tugging at the back of his voice.

Marie shushed him gently, giving him a nice squeeze. "It's okay, Jesse. Everything's okay. You know why?"

Jesse sniffled again and withdrew from Marie's arms. Tears had caused muddy streaks to run down his dejected face. A tear ran down his cheek into a relatively new cut and Jesse flinched from the sting. "Why?"

"'cause you're here," Marie answered with maternal confidence ringing in her voice. "I'm gonna keep you safe. Don't worry." She paused to look into Jesse's lightning blue eyes, tinted red from crying. "How about you take a nice, hot shower while I make us something to eat?" Marie had been trying to hide her disgust with Jesse's stench, the rank and foul stink of an unbathed meth-slave.

He nodded and swiveled on his feet to head back to his room, hands in his pockets.

"Can I make you anything special? Like, anything? You need some meat on those bones, boy."

Jesse paused in the hallway to give this question serious thought. Despite every fiber of his emaciated body screaming for food, he hadn't even given thought to what he wanted to eat. Some comfort food to knock him out of his post-captivity haze.

"Mac and cheese," he answered with resolution. "Yeah, that'd be dope. Thanks."

Marie nodded and shuffled into the kitchen to boil some water.

* * *

The sensation of fresh, warm water running over Jesse's beaten and grimy body nearly brought him to tears again. His muscles relaxed, unraveling beneath the heat of the shower.

After a significant amount of scrubbing, Jesse determined he was clean enough and toweled off. _Shoot, what am I supposed to wear? None of Hank's stuff would fit me_, Jesse thought nervously. Staying in the house of the widower killed by your drug-slave-master seemed like a social faux-pas. Doing so practically naked was even worse.

Stepping tentatively out of the bathroom and into the bedroom in naught but a towel, Jesse searched in vain for something to wear. Eventually, he gave up the search and emerged into the hallway under the assumption that Marie was still cooking up lunch in the kitchen. However, she was not.

"OH MY GOD!" Marie dropped the pile of clothes she had been carrying and whipped her hands up to her eyes. Jesse instinctively dropped into a ball on the floor, desperately holding his towel in place.

"PUT THESE CLOTHES ON THEY'RE FLYNN'S OLD CLOTHES I THOUGHT THEY WOULD FIT" Marie yelled rapidly and indistinguishably. On the floor, Jesse scrambled frantically for the clothes, scooping them up and streaking, quite literally, back into his room And slammed the door.

Marie finished the rest of the lunch in a haze while Jesse shakily got dressed in the privacy of his bedroom.


	5. The One Who Knocks

Hello everybody! First off, happy New Year! I wish all my readers the best in 2015. Thanks for all the support I've gotten over the past couple months; it warms my heart to check my inbox and see that you all are enjoying my writing. Secondly, sorry I haven't been able to publish as often. I've been super busy with holidays, schoolwork, and all kinds of stuff. Hopefully I'll get a lot more time to write this year! Anyway, enjoy this next, much anticipated chapter of _Legacy_! Hope you had an amazing holiday season! ~YeahScience

* * *

The only sound to break the fragile silence was the harsh sound of utensils hitting the bowls. Jesse was now, thankfully, fully clothed; however, the entirety of his situation was soaked in an awkwardness reminiscent of his dinner at the White's house. He tried to eat as gentlemanly as possible, but he was famished. After all, he had spent the last several months living in a cage.

Marie felt much the same way. She was not famished for nourishment, however; she desperately wanted answers. Information. If Heisenberg was still out there, this man would know. If Skyler, Flynn, and Holly were in danger, he would likely know too. If Hank were alive… _Don't be stupid, Marie. There's no possible way he could still be alive. He's dead._

She finally worked up the courage to break the silence. "Um," was the first sound that came out of her mouth. Seemed like a perfectly acceptable way to begin, given the circumstances. "Obviously, we need to figure this out." She wringed her hands nervously. Normally, Marie was a force to be reckoned with. But right now, shock had drained her fierceness and left her entirely dumbfounded. She stared into the haggard face of the man across from her. Her heart fluttered.

Jesse replied with a blank stare as he hovered over his bowl of food. After a few, deadpan seconds, he simply said, "Yeah."

"I'm on a leave of absence from work, so we can- stay here and get things sorted." She looked around her house. A thin, yet obvious sheet of dust covered almost every surface in her house. A little piece of her had died along with Hank. She remembered how she sobbed as he was lowered into the ground, recalled how she felt a strand of her soul leave her heart and bury itself in the coffin with him. Their house seemed to be dying around her, as neglected and emaciated as Jesse.

"I gotta lay low for a while. I, um, dunno if the DEA's gonna come lookin' for me. They might. But I can leave if you want me too." Even in his situation, Jesse remembered his manners. _It's best to be gracious to the woman who's helping you hide from the feds._

Marie's eyes shot rapidly from side to side as if she were expecting a SWAT team to bust through her doors and windows. Satisfied that they had not overheard their conversation, Marie continued. "No, Jesse, you can stay here. Everything's going to be just fine. I'm gonna make it fine." She gave a brusque nod.

Not wanting to prolong any of this strange interaction, she abruptly stood up and cleared the table. The last dish was in the sink when Marie's phone began to ring. Jesse stiffened immediately; there were only a handful of people who could've been on the other side of that phone call, and 90% of them wanted him in jail. Or worse. As Marie brought the phone to her ear, Jesse's mouth twisted in fearful anticipation. Marie saw his distress and waved it away, mouthing that it was Skyler. _Not the worst case scenario, _Jesse thought. _But still not ideal._

"Wait. What, Sky?" Marie was flummoxed, and she turned to Jesse with restrained panic in her eyes. She tried her best to keep it out of her voice. "You're coming over? No, no, it's fine. You and the kids need a place where you feel safe. It's been a rough night for you. Yeah, stop by. Really, it's no problem." Marie looked at Jesse and rolled her eyes the way she would've at Hank if Skyler had invited herself over. Jesse offered her a weak smile. Both were obviously trying to avoid the danger that the latter was in.

A beep and the call was over. "What are we going to do?!" Jesse asked.

"I don't know, I was about to ask you the same question!" Marie yelled back. She paced around the kitchen, running her fingers through her rich, brown hair. For a moment, Jesse was distracted by her looks, the way the purple seemed to bring out the sharpness in her features. But only for a moment.

"Listen, I have no idea what Skyler thinks of me. To her, I'm probably dead. I didn't kill her husband or anything." _I could've. But the bastard was dying anyway. Better to just let him suffer. _"I had dinner there like, once, and it didn't go very well. But I was working with the DEA when it all hit the fan. I hate Mr. White as much as she does."

"Then you two will get along swimmingly." In all likelihood, Skyler could keep a secret. She managed to hide her affair with Ted from her husband. And also to hide his crystal meth empire from _my _husband. "Oh, and you'll get to meet Flynn."

"Who the hell is that?"

Marie bit her lip. _That's right, _she remembered. _He's never met Flynn. Nor Holly, I think. What the hell is he gonna think of his dead father's ex-meth-partner? God, this is so messed up._

"Skyler's son," she explained. "Look, she probably shouldn't see you right now. She just lost her husband, there's probably a lot going on in her head. I don't think she could handle seeing you. No offense."

"None taken," Jesse replied. "I find that a lot of women can't handle seeing me." He sauntered into his bedroom and closed the door.

Marie found herself giggling like a schoolgirl at Jesse's cocky attitude. For a former meth addict, he was fairly handsome. _Snap out of it, Marie. He used to work with Heisenberg!_

There was a knock at the door.


	6. Over

When Marie opened the door, she was greeted by a shadow. Her sister was a haggard corpse: eyes sunken into _their_ sockets, hair hanging limply from her scalp, skin a pasty white. Flynn stood behind her, his jaw set rigidly in what appeared to be pure hatred trimmed in reprisal. His what not the face of a fatherless child. _Flynn never had a father_, Marie though bitterly, then with pity. _Heisenberg was a monster._

Holly cooed in her mother's arms, looking around in content confusion. When her eyes met Marie's a broad smile spread across the infant's face. Marie couldn't smile back and instead turned to her sister. Marie could find no words to say to her sister. In their childhood, Skyler had been the tough one, the stereotypical older sister. In the face of this tragic role reversal, Marie was unable to fill her sister's shoes.

"Skyler," she began, but she cut her off.

"He's dead." Skyler's voice was flat, morose. There was no emotional depth to her.

The two stood for a while, both on the brink of tears. It was Skyler who broke the silence.

"I loved him." The words tumbled clumsily out of her mouth, falling on the front porch with a dull thud. _Did she? When they were first married, sure. But even now?_ Marie

glanced at Holly. _He_ is _her father, after all._

Skyler collapsed, burying her face in Holly's blanket, sobbing quietly. The baby grasped a handful of her mother's limp hair in an attempt to console her. Marie wiped tears from her own eyes. In just two years, their whole family had fallen apart.

"Come in, hon." Mother and daughter stepped in the house and sat on the couch, curled up in a ball, shunning the outside world. As Flynn walked by, Marie rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" She asked delicately. Marie had no idea how her nephew would react. Sure, his father was dead, but so was Heisenberg. He immediately shrugged off her hand and continued walking into the living room. "Never been better," he mumbled back to her.

Marie stepped outside to gather her sister's luggage. They had packed light: an overnight bag each for Sky and Flynn, a diaper bag for Holly, and a collapsible crib. Nobody had any idea how long they'd be staying. _They can stay for the rest of their lives, if it'll help Skyler get through the hell she's been living in. _

"Can I get you anything? Food? Water?" She offered, but Skyler was not listening. She was practically catatonic; her body was an empty shell slumped on the couch, and her mind was nowhere to be seen. Marie gently sat next to her sister, wrapping both arms around her and the baby. "I'm sorry." That was all she could manage. She hoped Skyler couldn't feel her heart pounding in her chest. _For God's sake, I hope Jesse's hiding_.

"It's over," Skyler whimpered, startling Marie.

"What, honey?" Marie brushed aside a clump of hair from her sister's face.

"It's all over. The lying. The murder. The drugs. It all died with him." Skyler's red eyes stared at Marie's; there was terror in them. Skyler wanted to be sure that she was safe. That her children were safe.

"Yes. It's all over. You're all safe here. I will protect you and your family with my life, Skyler. That's what Hank would do."

"But he's dead!" Marie whipped away from her sister. _This isn't liker her. She's under a lot of stress_. "They're all dead!" She collapsed in a fit of sobs.

"It's okay," Marie hushed her tersely, trying to hide her offense at her sister's harsh words. "Stay here as long as you want."

"Marie," Skyler began, shedding her tear-streaked face for a blank stare. "Why are there two bowls on your table?" _Crap_. _C'mon, Marie, think on your feet. You're good at coming up with BS. Remember all those ope houses you stole from?_

"My therapist was over," was what came out. "He's been, um, helping. With some of the stuff."

"Has he?" Skyler replied cooly. She was immensely hard to read: evidently a result of working in the drug business for over a year. There was a hint of suspicion poised on the end of her sentence that made Marie anxious. _She'll think I had to do something with all of this_.

"Good," Skyler said, dropping the topic and turning her attention to Holly, who was growing fussy. Marie let herself exhale. By no means was she off the hook, though. She had just averted the inevitable.

For a few seconds, at least.

"Mom!" Came Flynn's scream. Skyler thrust the baby into Marie's arms and ran in the direction of the cry.

"Wait! Sky!" Marie shouted as she shuffled hurriedly towards her sister, still holding the baby.

"What is it?" Skyler shrieked as she rounded the corner to the hallway. When she reached Flynn's bedroom, she halted in shock. Thank God she had given Holly to Marie, otherwise she probably would've dropped her.

"Who the hell is this?!" Flynn gestured to Jesse with his crutch. Jesse was standing by the closet door, hands in his pockets and eyes spread wide with fear. "And why is he wearing my clothes?!"

Skyler turned slowly to face her sister. Her face said everything hing: what in the hell have you done, Marie?

"Skyler, I can explain-" she began, grasping the infant tighter. Flynn cut her off.

"You damn well better start!"


	7. Blade

"How long has this been going on?" Skyler breathed as though she refused to believe the situation. Marie flustered, running about to make sure no windows or doors were open. Jesse held his hands up in a non-threatening surrender, trying (and failing) to convince the widowed woman that his intentions were good.

"Listen, there ain't nothing going on here, yo," Jesse said slowly, motioning between himself and Marie. She nodded furiously in agreement. Neither Skyler nor Flynn seemed to be buying it.

"Damn it, Skyler, I was not helping anybody! Jesse did not kill Walt! Neither of us had anything to do with this!" Marie was panicked; she didn't know what Skyler was capable of. It was a terrible thought, but perhaps Heisenberg had taught his wife how to kill.

"A-and how do we know you're not lying?" Flynn began, tears fracturing his voice. He had migrated slowly to his mother, leaving Jesse alone in the room. Flynn seemed almost to protect her, his crutches hovering slightly above the floor, poised to attack.

"LISTEN!" Marie shrieked. Jesse jumped, wringing his hands together in fear. Just because he was here didn't make him safe. His whole life was to be spent in hiding. Running, hiding: never living. "Everybody. Shut up." Marie growled through her teeth. Every single person in this house would be arrested if the cops found out.

"Jesse was working to bring Heisenberg down. The men who killed Hank? They were working for your husband. So they captured Jesse and held him hostage for weeks, months, who knows." Marie pause and exchanged glances with Jesse. He gave the faintest of nods. _Keep going_, it said. So she did.

"Last night, Heisenberg-"

"He had a name, Marie," Skyler interjected with a voice fogged with anger and mourning.

"Fine," Marie agreed tersely. In her opinion, this vile liar was not Walt. But her sister had been through hell and back in the span of about 12 hours, so she heeded her request.

"Walt went to their compound and shot up the place. He killed the men who killed Hank, the same ones who had been keeping Jesse hostage. Amidst the bullets, Walt was shot. And he died. That's it, Skyler. Jesse didn't do anything wrong. He is not at fault here." Marie stood tall, defiant. Even against her big sister, Marie was not afraid to stick to her guns.

"If you hadn't been around, none of this would have happened," Skyler hissed in a voice so bitter it broug a second round of tears to her sister's eyes. Holly babbled innocently, unknowingly sensing the hostile tension.

"Hey, that's not fair-"

"Marie, let her talk. She's right. None of this would have happened if I never met Mr. White," Jesse cut in, adopting the mannerisms of a child telling the truth after living a lie. Flynn turned with fiery eyes to him, but not even Skyler could read his expression. Did Flynn hate this boy who made his father a meth dealer? Did he pity this boy who got caught up in something bad?

"We hate Walt just as much as you do," Marie nodded. Skyler whipped her head around and stared his sister right in the eye with a glance that pierced her soul.

"I do not hate him. I loved him." With that, she stormed into Flynn's old room, her child following closely. He threw one last hateful look over his shoulder before he slammed the door closed. A second later, the harsh metal-on-metal sound indicated that the lock had been engaged.

* * *

An hour passed. Jesse thought he heard sobs through the door to Skyler's room, but he wasn't sure. Marie sat at the kitchen counter, massaging her temples, a purple blanket draped apathetically across her shoulders. Jesse paced in the living room, staring intently at his feet as they wore tracks into the purple shag rug. Finally, his host sighed and stood up slowly.

"I should go talk to her." Resigned, she shuffled to the hallway, only to have Jesse stop her.

"Let me," he whispered, their faces close. His eyes betrayed his childlike psyche, damaged from the weeks he spent in hell. There was weather on his face, a storm in his eyes. He squeezed Marie's slender wrists and, pausing for a moment before backing away and padding to the door.

Jesse stood outside the door, hand on the knob, ears reaching for any filament of sound. There was a none to be found. Instead, he knocked so softly he feared the door had swallowed the resonance. However, he heard Skyler shift within the room and approach the door. With two clicks, it opened. And there she was, stoic and resilient, threatening. She stood half obscured by the door, although shadows covered her entire face.

"Skyler-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Listen here," she breathed, drawing her left arm out from behind the door. Jesse drew a sharp, yet quiet gasp as he saw what she was holding.

The pocket knife was slender, yet impeccably sharp and long: a needle, designed to sew skin. It glistened evilly as it crept towards his abdomen; Jesse felt the prick before the tip even touched his shirt. It was cold and unforgiving.

"You stay away from my daughter," Skyler whispered in a harsh monotone. Her eyes pierced right through Jesse's. Her face was as sharp and cold as her weapon. "You stay away from my son. You stay away from me. Do you understand?" Her words hung in the air for a moment, suspended by a string of threat.

Jesse could only cough out a short, barely audible sound of agreement, which did nothing to satisfy Skyler. She twisted the pocketknife and, although it was still poised in front of Jesse's midsection, he felt the phantom pain as it writhed within him.

"_Do you understand?_" she asked deliberately, with such venom in her voice that Jesse felt his insides burn with fear. This time he succeeded in articulating a clear "yes."

Upon the satisfactory response, Skyler began to withdraw. The knife glinted menacingly, almost victoriously as it slunk back behind the door. She did not take her eyes off him as she closed the door without a word.

Only then did Jesse dare breathe.


	8. Raptor

Breakfast. A typical scene for Skyler's family. Scrambled eggs, bacon, orange juice. But this time, everything was different. For one, Junior had hardly touched his food; in fact, only one person had: Jesse Pinkman, who was seated opposite Skyler. Holly was wiggling in her mother's arms, oblivious to the volatile coldness in the air. Unfortunately, Jesse was receiving most of the harsh looks, which he ignored and continued to stare into his plate. Marie, however, sat commandingly in her chair. Her shoulders were back, chin raised slightly. Jesse couldn't help stealing sideways glances at her delicate yet fierce silhouette.

The sun shone through the cabernet curtains, casting rich slashes across the tile floor. The way Skyler kept one hand under the table made the hairs on Jesse's arms stand up; she could very easily be hiding a knife. Mr. White was a killer. And what was the saying? Birds of a feather flock together.

A sharp _beep _cut through the air, signaling that the coffee was ready. Marie stood abruptly poured herself a cup complete with 4 packets of Splenda.

"Coffee, anybody?" she asked, her voice chipper and amicable. Skyler turned her head slightly and narrowed her eyes, coolly furious that her sister dared speak. Jesse was the only one to answer. "Yes, ma'am, please." Skyler turned again to look at the boy who broke the silence. He had aged considerably since the infamous 'green bean dinner.' He looked resigned and his face was sunken. But she felt to pity for the creature seated across from her.

Jesse took a sip of the liquid and immediately felt it rush to his head. "Why can't we just talk about this?" He looked around and met Skyler's hateful gaze head-on.

"Don't you dare speak to her," Flynn hissed, jumping to his mom's defense. "You- you _bastard!_" Holly whimpered. Skyler hugged her closer, resting a hand on the infant's head. Marie returned to the table, apparently open to the idea of a discussion on the, needless to say, massive elephant in the room.

"Flynn, listen," Marie began. She struggled with her words. He was still a kid; was he old enough to handle this incredibly complex situation? Hell, Marie didn't completely understand everything. "Jesse was working against your father. He was helping Uncle Hank find and arrest him. Walt's- _allies, _I guess you could call them- kept Jesse hostage for several months. They forced him to make drugs and then they killed his girlfriend. Flynn," Marie paused, sliding her hands across the table to hold Junior's. He flinched at her touch.

"Jesse hates Walter just as much as you do."

Jesse looked up into Marie's rich eyes. _Go with it, _they said. Did Jesse hate Mr. White? He poisoned Brock. He let Jane die. But he also saved his life. Without Mr. White, Jesse would still be in the white supremacist compound. Dead, probably, or close to it. _The only reason they kept me alive was 'cuz I could cook like him, _Jesse thought bitterly. Deep down, did he hate Mr. White?

Even Jesse didn't know.

Finally, Skyler spoke.

"I have to meet with the police. They requested that I come in so they can make sure I don't know anything. Pinkman, they're going to ask me about you. And I'm going to tell them where you are."

Jesse froze, rigid, as his heart began to pound faster and faster. With his wide eyes he stared into hers, which were void of all emotion save hate. There was no happiness in this empty skin of a person. _No pity either, apparently. _

_She can't. We'll both go down for this. How much time can I serve? 10 years? Life? _

"You son of a bitch. If you hadn't met my husband, _none _of this would have happened. We would be happily married. He would be alive. My children would have a father. But no, you worthless piece of trash. You destroyed my family, and now I am going to destroy you." Skyler had been slowly standing from her seat through her entire speech, each word mounting intensity until there were tears of pure hate in her eyes. Her hands shook as she held Holly protectively to her chest. The infant had begun to shriek, scared of her mother's intimidating tone. Jesse felt himself melting under her icy hot leer. Jesse had never, _never_, felt this hated. This woman despised him. _She has every right to. I ruined her life. And the lives of her two children. All for the Blue Sky._

Skyler whirled on her feet and stalked into her room. Flynn followed close behind, shooting one last glance at his aunt and her guest. As the Whites retreated to their bedroom, Holly's red, tear-streaked face met Jesse's. She quieted down and blinked slowly, moving her thumb to her mouth. Jesse felt the deepest sense of shame as he thought of what he had done to that poor baby. Then his thoughts turned to Brock. An orphan, all because of… who? Todd? His uncle? Mr. White? _Jesse?_

"Shit," Jesse muttered as he put his head in his hands. It was over. Not 24 hours out of his cage and he was about to be prodded back in.

Marie stood and moved behind his chair. She put her hands on his bony shoulders, comforting him as best she could. Their warmth radiated through Jesse's shirt, right to his core. _All of this... For what? Girls? Drugs? Money?_

Marie bit her lip and leaned forward, resting her chin on Jesse's shaggy hair. He turned his head to look up at her, their faces hovering just inches from each other.

"I guess this is goodbye," Jesse whispered. If the Albuquerque PD found out where he was, he'd probably get a life sentence. _Eligible for parole in ten, maybe? If only Saul were still around. Why the hell didn't I just go with the Extractor?_

"You're not going anywhere. Not without me." Without warning, Marie leaned right into Jesse's face and gave him a long, passionate kiss. At first, he held his arms at his side, shocked, but moved them to cradle her face. Slowly, his eyes closed as he gave into her kiss. There was an endearing fierceness to her that Jesse had been afraid to admit was attractive as hell.

"I'm harboring a fugitive."


End file.
